The Beginning
by Mango of Angst
Summary: Pilgrimages need not always end at Sin. And of course, with every ending, there is always another beginning...
1. The Setting Sun

A/N: This was written in response to a challenge issued by mon ami noctepanther when he was bored. I very obviously do not own Final Fantasy X, if I did, do you think I would be here? No. I'd be in France. Drinking chai in the Latin Quarter.  
This takes place a few years before Yuna's pilgramage, and I assume a little before Lulu and Chappu did their thing.

_Don't worry, Mother, I'll make you proud, make your sacrifice worthwhile,_ he thought, walking out into the light of day beyond the temple doors. He found himself on the island of Besaid, almost the last stop in his Pilgrimage, and having just spent the better part of the day acquiring the aeon Valefor, Seymour was drained. And he had no Guardians to share the weight of his task. No one wanted to be seen with a half-breed like him. And no one knew the sacrifice that had been made for him to begin his training as a Summoner. No one ever could know; it would only serve to alienate him further from the races to which he belonged, or rather, didn't belong.

He sighed as he looked at the small arrangement of huts around him. He looked with disdain upon the Crusaders' tent, standing nearest to the temple as if in mocking. And as his gaze swept the tiny village before him, where it was rumored that the daughter of the High Summoner Braska had been deposited after his defeat of Sin. But he didn't particularly care about her. He hadn't lain eyes upon her since his arrival two days ago. _One would think she would spend more time near the temple_, he mused. A figure walked through the gateway into the village as he stood watching, and he regarded it with an outwardly detached interest.

She stood out starkly in the village, both against the light colors of her surroundings and against the other inhabitants. Her black dress clinked gently in the sounds of the afternoon as she made her way down the large central expanse of the village up to the temple. No one knew why she wore it. There were certainly theories, but no one bothered to ask. As was often the case in small gatherings of people such as this one. There were a grand total of six little huts, counting the lone shop and Crusaders' tent. He had already heard several of these rumors in passing, as if no one had anything better to talk about. Seymour slowly shook his head, wondering at the idiocy of the human race. Yet still, he could not help but watch her walk towards him, and unaware if she noticed him, he reentered the temple, standing close by the doorway. After a few minutes, she entered the temple, standing momentarily in the door, just letting her eyes adjust to the dim light within.

"Good afternoon, my lady," he greeted her coolly and politely, just as he always did others.

"Oh!" she gasped, swinging the moogle she held with an instinctual movement. It caught him in the side of the face, stinging the skin there. He reached a hand gracefully up to his reddened cheek. "What are you doing here?" she demanded just as coolly as he had greeted her, yet with a slight edge to her voice. She had counted on the time alone, as it was the time of the afternoon during which most were eating or catching a nap before the evening set in.

He stepped forward. "My lady, I am a Summoner on a Pilgrimage. It is natural that I be found in a temple," he answered smoothly. "I apologize if I have startled you." He rubbed his cheek tenderly, making a small bow to her. She flung the long black braids she wore back from her shoulder, making no response. He watched her for a moment. "May I know your name?" he asked at last.

She looked at him, her expression entirely unreadable. It irritated him being unable to gauge her response as he so easily could those of everyone he had encountered thus far. "Lulu," she told him curtly. "As if it is any business of yours." She turned her head to regard the statues on the far side of the cavernous room in which they found themselves. Seymour laughed a low, warm chuckle.

"Point taken, my lady," he answered with another bow. "I am…" He hesitated, unsure of whether or not to include the natural surname his father and half his breeding brought him. "Seymour Guado," he finished, "Of Guadosalam." Her mouth twitched.

"Well, Lord Seymour," she responded, putting a rather irreverent emphasis on the 'lord' part of the address, "If you don't mind, I have some praying I need to do. And would like to do alone." Lulu turned away sharply, dress clinking with every movement, and proceeded to walk quickly over to the pedestal awaiting the arrival of the statue of the newest High Summoner. Seymour stood quietly in place, watching her go, before turning away to exit the temple once more. She intrigued him. But he knew well enough to leave her be. He walked slowly through the village, wondering if there were somewhere…more suitable to stay than the Crusaders' tent which doubled as an inn. People looked away as he passed, very obviously trying not to stare. Few of them ever left the island, let alone made it to Guadosalam. It didn't matter to them that he looked more human than Guado. He was still different.

Sighing, he realized his search was futile. He would have to stay in that blasphemous tent. But it was not yet time for sleep. _Sleep is such a waste of time,_ he thought. Instead, he wandered out of the village to get a better idea of the island. After all, it was unlikely at best that he would ever see it again. It was not as grand as Bevelle, that much was certain; but he nonetheless wanted to see more of it. The idyllic serenity spoke to him. It was much different than the dead calm that had surrounded the home he had known most of his life. A cold rage broke out of the cage he had built for it at the thought of his father, but he smothered it almost immediately and continued on his way, the sea birds cackling around him as he passed ruin after ruin, soon reaching the promontory that bore a single, idol-like pillar long broken from the machina city that had previously occupied the island. He stood there near the edge, by a small roping that separated him from the jungle far below his feet, and just watched the sea beyond the village, seeing the people move like ants as they stirred from their rests and resumed their daily activities. He closed his eyes, wondering at the differences between all the places he had seen in his journeys, yet unimpressed by the similarities therein. Seymour thoroughly dreaded the trip to Zanarkand; as it required he pass through Macalania Woods again, and thus, Guadosalam. He sighed again, deep and sorrowful, before turning around to go. But his plan was thwarted as he bumped into something, or rather; someone.

"Excuse me!" she spat, rocking back a step from the impact, dress and hair ornaments clinking again as she did so. Seymour's eyes opened, and to his disguised embarrassment, he beheld one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. He could see the defiant glint of her fiercely violet eyes out here in the light, her dark hair shining in the glory of the late afternoon sun. Her mouth was half open as if preparing to give him a proper tirade for not watching where he was going. Seymour swallowed, smiled warmly, and bowed.

"My apologies once again, my lady," was his instinctual polite response. This was so because his mother had always taught him to be polite, and because he had seen how it often infuriated those who meant to make a mockery of him. "But it seems now that it is _you_ who invades _my_ peace," he teased.

"It is _you_ who invades my island," she countered sharply, her tongue always able to keep pace with her temper.

"Then perhaps you would prefer that I continued on my way." Seymour stepped to the side and began to walk off.

"Hmph," was the only response he heard behind him. The Guado kept walking, turning around only when he knew she would not be. Yet he caught her whipping her head back around to the village below as he did so. He smiled to himself. _Perhaps there is hope yet…_he thought. He touched a hand to his chest, just above his heart, and with a final small dip of his head, resumed his trek to the beach he knew lay at the end of the path.

Seymour stood at the end of the port, just watching the sea as the sun began to set over it. It was a much different sea than he had known as a child, and somewhere within him, he loved the difference. The warmth and friendly air of this sea reminded him of his mother, his one companion unto the start of this very journey…and he had done it for her. She had wanted him to have the strength to protect himself from the world they both knew would not accept him, and she had given her all for him to have it. And as his thoughts drifted, they began to sway back and forth, mimicking the motion of the water around him. As he heard the footsteps behind him on the wooden planks of the pier, he didn't bother to turn. He knew who they belonged to. Even if he hadn't, the gentle, almost melodic clink that accompanied them would have told him.

She walked with steady, measured steps until she stood just behind him, nearly treading upon the slight train of his robes. Their blue matched his hair wonderfully, odd as it was. "Lord Seymour…" she began.

"Just Seymour, my lady," he responded as usual. "There is no need for formalities."

"As you continue to use them?" she retorted, leading him to give a low chuckle.

"As you would have it, then, Lulu." He gave no hint of the tremble his use of the name so recently told him lent to his heart's unsteady beating. Finally he turned, looking at the new glint in the eyes that now reflected perfectly the purple of the clouds in the setting sun behind him. He smiled. Lulu smiled back. And he lowered his head gently, his pulse racing as he felt his lips connect with-

-her moogle. He recoiled in shock, confused. He looked at her, the moogle still held in front of her face so all he could see was the playful shine of her eyes above its fuzzy head. She lowered it, smiling wryly at him.

"I don't think so," she said. His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, all thoughts of maintaining his shell gone, and then he stopped. He couldn't say it. He just couldn't.

It was absolutely impossible for him to have said anything as her lips found his, the glow of the sunset spreading beneath his closed eyelids as his heart raced harder than it ever had before. He hesitantly reached out and lightly placed his hands on her back, holding her gently as though afraid she would crumble away and leave the kiss to linger on his lips as a fading ghost. But feeling her tremble under his touch, he tightened his arms around her, wanting her to know that he was there, that he would never leave.

His Pilgrimage was over.

A/N: Was that ending alright? I did write two for it. The other is...less happy. But don't you worry; it shall show up.


	2. The Rising Sin

A/N: Tada! So here it is, the long overdue continuation and justification of the title. I am not sure how much sense some of it will make to those who have not played the game, or played the game entirely, for that matter, but here it is!  
Again, I don't own FFX. If I did, I'd be off having tea in the Latin Quarter, though it seems I would have to bring my own chai...

Time passed, and Seymour made himself quite at home on the island. The villagers came to tolerate him, if nothing else, and the young daughter of High Summoner Braska began her training to become a Summoner. And the Guado had learned to smile. Really smile. And it seemed to him that his dark beauty was learning, as well. Every passing day was just another reminder of how wonderful it felt to finally be accepted by someone; not only accepted, but loved.

Seymour smiled lightly at the thought, standing again at the promontory above the village, watching the people move below. He turned a little to his left, watching the object of his affections standing serenely by his side, obviously lost in some thought. Seymour reached over and squeezed her hand lightly.

"My dear?" he addressed her, visage and voice full of concern. She turned to him, violet eyes clouded over and misty. Lulu smiled faintly in an attempt to be reassuring.

"It's nothing," she answered gently, holding his gaze for a moment before turning back, staring off into the blue and green around them once more. Lulu shook her head, sniffling inaudibly. She turned back to Seymour, taking his other hand in hers and meeting his eyes; the blue orbs shining back at her with an adoration she had seldom seen. "I love you, Seymour."

He smiled back and bent to kiss her, enjoying the gentle thrill the contact still gave him before giving his answer. It really had not been that long that they had been giving voice to their love…the fact that it was there at all still quite surprised the young Guado. "And I, you, my dear lady Lulu." _Ah, Mother…if only you could see her! This wonder before me…you would love her just as I do, I am sure of it._

She blinked slowly in recognition. He never really had fallen out of the pattern of referring to her as "lady." It had become a pet name of sorts between them. She turned back to her musings, looking down into the village. A bright flash caught her eye, the instantaneous reflection of the sun off a blade, and she watched it as what appeared to be a blitzball flew from one of the huts and collided with the wielder. She shook her head faintly, raising a hand to her pale forehead.

"Something the matter, my dear?" Seymour asked her quietly, "A headache?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm quite alright." The dark beauty paused. "A little tired, perhaps…"

"Then we should return so you may rest. We have been up here some time already…" His voice trailed happily. He truly did love the promontory; it was by far his favorite part of the island. With the exception of the pier, of course. That would always hold a special place for him.

"No, no, it's fine. I can go rest; you stay here," she replied, turning to smile at him once more, violet eyes sparkling in the light. The man beside her could not help but smile back. "After all, I am not so certain I would get rest if both of us returned." A pale blush flushed across his features.

"As you wish it, then, my lady." Seymour bowed, one hand touched to his chest as the other raised her delicate fingers to meet his lips. Lulu bobbed her head and curtseyed slightly, and the two laughed a small, private laugh before she began her walk back to the village.

Listening to the gentle clink fade into the jungle around him, Seymour sighed. _So this is what it is like to be happy. Someone to love…someone to hold me in the night…_His thoughts drifted onward. _Is this what you had with…him, Mother? Before-_ Feeling his face twist in anger, Seymour quickly squelched the fire the memory still wrought in him. The sacrifice haunted him, and the desire for vengeance on the one responsible for the preceding torment followed closely on its heels. _Mother…I will make you proud. I promise._

He turned and walked away from the watching spot, venturing off down the now-familiar path back to the village. He had not yet given his daily prayers, and it made him uneasy to not. _Old habits die hard…_ By now, his love would surely be lying down in the hut they shared and he need not worry of disturbing her. He smiled.

Reaching the cool darkness of the temple, he gazed reverently at the statues before him, bowing and making the sign of Yevon to each one in turn before crossing to his preferred space in the large public hall and kneeling to pray. Once finished, he rose and regarded the room again, his gaze resting for a moment on the entrance to the Cloister of Trials. A small pang of guilt hit him as he thought again of his mother. _That is where you wanted me to be, is it not?_ He frowned ever-so-slightly before bowing once again in a small prayer to Yevon and exiting onto the raised stone around the temple itself. The sun had progressed a bit past the time he and she usually took lunch, but he was not particularly worried about it. Odds were she still slept. And if not, he would surely make it up to her later on.

Upon entering their home, Seymour first noticed her absence. A short scan of the single room found a note neatly written in the small, short curves of her handwriting.

_My dear Seymour,_

_I hope you don't mind, love, but I fixed lunch already and ate, myself. I left you yours over near the fire._

He glanced over, and saw it sitting there, carefully tucked away in just the right spot to keep it warm, but not overcook it as it waited for him. A small smile graced his face as he pictured her kneeling there, fussing at it until it was just as it should be. _Ah, my dark angel…_he sighed inwardly.

_I've gone for a walk around the island. Don't worry, my darling Lord- I've only gotten a bit of wanderlust lately. Perhaps it is time we took that journey you keep speaking of, to see your home? I would dearly love to someday, you know._

His mouth twitched. _Home…where has that ever been for me? With you, Mother? Or here now, with her?_ Seymour shook his head and continued on.

_I will return in time for dinner, if not earlier. I wouldn't dare to let you figure it out on your own._

_Love,  
__Your Lady_

He chuckled lightly and shook his head again. She knew him too well. His cooking skill was limited at best.

Setting the note down, he gathered up the bowl left for him and proceeded to enjoy a slow, thought-filled lunch, noticing roughly every five minutes how empty it felt without her there. _But she will be back soon_, he reminded himself every time. When his lunch was finally finished, the sun was considerably lower in the sky, and he decided it was a good opportunity to go for a walk himself. He grabbed his Summoner's staff from its place near the cot. It was not necessary for him any more, but still he carried it, for the respect it demanded of the villagers and for the memory attached to it. _Mother…what did he do to you that you were so…_the thought trailed off in his mind as it was smothered by the cold rage so familiar to him now. His steps quickened as, once again, he smothered the fire in thoughts of Lulu.

It seemed by instinct his feet led him as he wandered path after path through jungle and ruins of a civilization passed, that he finally landed at the pier which had witnessed the single greatest moment of his life. _Not that there have been many candidates for the title, _he thought with just a taste of bitterness. The recollection of that night brought a fierce, burning joy to his heart and the feeling of having just been kissed to his lips as he stood at the end of the wooden structure. He licked them gently, recalling the moment as if it were only seconds ago. Seymour's attention was snapped back to reality as his sharp Guado ears caught the familiar sound of belts moving…the angel's herald of his love's approach. He stood there silently, still staring out at the sunset, hoping perhaps to surprise her if he could. When he heard footsteps reach the wood and stop, he turned slowly, confused. They had sounded too heavy…

And there she was, the love he had found at last, the dreamlike perfection of her porcelain skin seeming to glow in the fading light of the setting sun…locked in a kiss with another man.

That cold fire began to burn in him again, and he did not suppress it. He quickly masked his confusion and anger and the blackness which had stolen over what had been a spreading joy.

The kiss broke, and the two lovers smiled at each other as though each was all the other could see. It was obvious they had no idea of his presence. Seymour stepped forward once, startling them.

"Seymour!" Lulu gasped. "I…Chappu…" she stammered, a deep pain filling her eyes as she pushed the red-haired youth from her and started towards him.

"There is no need for explanation," he said blankly, his tone entirely devoid of emotion. "My apologies, my lady," he intoned with a short, overly polite bow. He turned back to the setting sun, seeing the reds and oranges and hating how right it was for him. All the destruction that those colors bore for him. His hand tightened around his Summoner's staff, his knuckles whitening, as his other hand reached back to touch the spot above his heart as though he were feeling for a wound. She stepped over to his side, looking at him in the hope he would look at her, give her the chance to explain, but he looked away, spinning angrily to leave, his boots pounding the wooden planks as he strode with long, furious steps back into the village. Lulu was left there, watching him. The youth- that Chappu, as she had called him -was nowhere to be seen.

_This will be the last time they reject me, Mother; I swear it…_ And on his walk, he began concocting a plan, a plan for his revenge. The humans would live to regret all the evils they had shown him.

_For someday, they will have to answer to Sin. And the one who could save them will be the one to destroy them_…

A/N: Ending strong enough for y'all? It's an edited version of the ending I'd had planned for the first chapter, but then, in a conversation with noctepanther about it, I was inspired to do this instead. It was rather difficult, having a beginning and an end and having to fill in the middle...but you know, I think I like it more than I'd expected. What do you think?


End file.
